


Until the Next Time

by bitochondria



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: (sort of?), Cunnilingus, Drabble, F/F, PWP, Rival Sex, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering, okay but what if judit and klaasje were like. batman and catwoman. except lesbians. hear me out.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22789318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitochondria/pseuds/bitochondria
Summary: Judit Minot finds herself in a surprising position at a charity dinner she's supposed to be keeping safe from spies and other ne'er-do-wells.
Relationships: Judit Minot/Klaasje Amandou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Until the Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an image of a dress and a conversation with some fellow Disco fans. I had no idea this was a thing I needed, and no I have no idea how I managed to stop blushing long enough to write it. Enjoy.

Judit Minot wasn’t  _ entirely _ certain how she had found herself in this position. Not in the kind of “I-blacked-out-and-now-I’m-in-a-strange-place-surrounded-by-strange-people” way some of her coworkers were so skilled at. More in a, “how did I come to this point in my life?” kind of way. She knew why she was at a charity dinner; she had asked to be assigned as security there. She knew why she had asked to be assigned; the corporate saboteur she had been chasing since Lieutenants Du Bois and Kitsuragi had  _ set her free in the middle of an investigation _ was purported to be going under an assumed name. She knew why she was in the kitchen; she had cornered the spy there. She knew why the spy was in the kitchen; their eyes had met across the array of dinner tables, and immediately “Klaasje” had bolted. 

What she was a little less clear on was how she had ended up backed against a wall, biting her wrist, her trousers around her ankles, with one Miss Oranje Disco Dancer’s hands on her thighs and her mouth on— 

Well.

Judit had never considered herself much of a risk taker, despite being a police officer. And she was hardly the sexually adventurous type. And she  _ certainly _ wasn’t the type to let herself be seduced by a suspect, and yet. 

She bit down harder to avoid making a noise, her legs and arms shaking as the unfathomably beautiful blonde woman in front of her slid her tongue into the space between her legs. Her long, straight, elegant nose pressed enticingly against the place that was calling out for more pressure, more sensation, as Klaasje buried her tongue inside her. It was everything she could do not to grind against this woman’s face. 

Judit’s mind was a swirl of lust and inanity; between thoughts of  _ fuck _ and  _ harder _ , she just kept thinking:  _ isn’t she going to be a mess?  _ And  _ what if someone walks in? _ And  _ is this a fireable offense? Can I go to jail for having sex with a criminal? _

Klaasje ceased tongue-fucking her for a moment, licking up the contours of her lips to her clit. The tip of her tongue brushed against the sensitive area and Judit yelped, doubling over with surprise and embarrassment. Klaasje laughed, a mortifyingly beautiful and melodic sound. She returned to her ministrations, sliding one long, slightly cold finger inside Judit as she sucked. 

Judit began to think that perhaps she had hit her head in pursuit of the suspect, and that this was all a very embarrassing erotic dream. No one just  _ dropped their pants _ in the middle of an arrest. And what self-respecting criminal would go down on a cop when she could be running away? 

They  _ had _ kissed before. 

The time at the docks, and then the time after that on the roof of the abandoned building, and then that third time, in the back room of that club, well, it had actually been a little more than kissing. 

But this seemed like a bridge too far, somehow. 

Judit wondered if she would be able to come in such a tense situation, and then realized that if she was worrying about that, her priorities were  _ really _ out of whack. The next thought was not any more helpful, from a law enforcement perspective:  _ Obviously I’ll be expected to reciprocate, right? _

A sticky stream of moisture started running down the inside of one thigh, and Judit bucked unconsciously against her spy’s face. Klaasje pressed another finger inside her, and then a third, sliding them in and out with sopping, slippery ease. Judit wasn’t sure she had ever been this turned on before.

She wondered if Klaasje was getting anything out of this. Underneath that shimmering blue-violet dress, were her nipples straining against the fabric, hot and hard and desperate to be touched? She was probably wearing some kind of black, lacy underpants— were they soaked through? Or was this all business for her? Her most oft-used escape plan: fuck the cop’s brains out, and then run while their legs are jelly?

She thought about what she  _ should _ be doing: arresting this woman, for sexy crimes. Or, rather, actual crimes. Because she was a criminal. 

And she thought about what she  _ wanted _ to be doing: lying in a feather bed somewhere with this ridiculous sly blonde vision, kissing her on her perfect throat and clavicle and belly, fucking her silly until she, too, lost all sense of normalcy and discretion. She wanted to hear Klaasje call out her name, gasping, as ragged and unruly as she felt right now. She wanted to make her come so many times her legs gave out. She wanted this slippery disaster of a woman to come undone in her hands.

Judit had never felt like that before. That kind of longing mixed up with  _ power _ and  _ danger _ was something from a Dick Mullen novel, not something from her own life. She was a beat cop— she didn’t chase down  _ spies _ . And on top of that, she was, she admitted freely,  _ plain _ . Beautiful women didn’t want to fuck her. 

And yet. 

The most beautiful woman she had ever met was fucking her right now, quite admirably, in a kitchen. The pressure on her clit was reaching point-of-no-return levels, and each stroke of Klaasje’s fingers, stretching and sliding, was making her stomach tight and warm.

The combination of sensations inside and out— Klaasje’s dexterous tongue rubbing wild, rapid circles over her clitoris and her lovely white fingers fucking her with a controlled intensity just threatening to tip over into madness— Judit couldn’t hold on any longer. She grabbed the back of Klaasje’s impeccable blonde head and ground into her touch, coming with a stifled scream against her face. Klaasje brought her down gently, licking through the waves of her orgasm, fingers still inside. 

When she did pull out, she stood, all grace and glamour. Ignoring, of course, that her makeup was smeared and her face was shiny-wet with Judit’s moisture. She licked her fingers off like they were covered in chocolate or whipped cream, an action of total girlish delight. And then she pulled Judit in for a long, soft, lingering kiss. It was obscenely wet, and easily the best kiss Judit had ever had. 

Klaasje pulled away with Judit’s lip still between her teeth, gentle, but fierce. Claiming.

She winked. 

“Until next time, Detective.” 

And then she was gone. 

Until the next time. 


End file.
